


Connecting Threads

by Hekate1308



Series: The Crowley Chronicles [40]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 13, Drowley hinted at, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 10:14:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17764847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hekate1308/pseuds/Hekate1308
Summary: At first there was nothing. Nothing but the Empty and rest and the peace he had chosen.And then the whispering started.Crowley survival story, Drowley strongly hinted at.





	Connecting Threads

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while since I saved Crowley, hasn't it? Enjoy!

At first there was nothing. Nothing but the Empty and rest and the peace he had chosen.

And then the whispering started.

_It’s not over._

_It never was going to be for you._

_You never chose the easy path._

By the time Crowley had decided he should ignore it, it was too late; for to choose that, he must have a consciousness again, and that meant –

He opened his eyes. He was certainly not lying in the dark world he had sacrificed himself in, but he didn’t think this was the Empty, either.

Instead, he was standing in the middle of a wide, well-lit room.

And there were three women sitting in front of him.

“Ah” said the one who was busy spinning, “The one who his mother called Fergus.”

“The one who has to make a decision at this very moment” supplied the second, measuring a thread.

“The one who actually gets to make a choice whether or not I wield them, again” said the third, wielding scissors in her hands.

Crowley knew who they were. How could he not? It was always a good idea to know what gods someone believed in.

“You are the moirai.”

“We are” said the second one.

“And you were the King of Hell” the first one announced.

Crowley sighed. He had an idea where this was going, and he was tired of it all.

That had been one of his reasons to do what he did. He had been old, and tired, and leading Hell hadn’t been nearly as much fun as one would have imagined it to be; and one of the few, if not the only friends he had ever made in his life, had made it quite clear that he meant nothing to them. So why not end it all with a grand gesture?

“And you will be… whatever you decide to be” the third finally announced and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Did she really think that such empty platitudes would have him run back to a life he no longer cared for?

“Not everyone is given a second chance” the middle one reminded him. It was rather annoying that her names continued to elide him, but there was nothing he could do about it now.

“What makes you think I want one?”

“There is someone” the first one said, “You were close to.”

“Some who is precious to you, even now.”

Of course this time the one with the scissors had nothing to say.

Crowley didn’t answer either.

“You don’t deny it” the Goddess of the Present eventually told him.

What point was there in denying it? Crowley had always known when he was beaten, hence said dramatic exit.

“And if you perform a miracle for him, you shall be rewarded” the Goddess of the Future announced.

“A miracle?” What kind of miracle could he possible perform for Dean Winchester? The man had been through Hell and back, lived through the resurrection of several close relatives, not to mention that he, too, had met literal Gods. What miracle could he, a demon, make happen that could be strong enough to –

He stopped his train of thought when he realized he was already contemplating what they had told him. That wasn’t how this was supposed to go; he was supposed to refuse all their offers and then go back to –

“So be it, then. If any of us were mortal” and the middle one gives him an enigmatic smile “I would tell you Good Luck, Crowley.”

He blinked and found he was standing in the bunker.

Couldn’t life just leave him alone?

The boys entered. Cassie wasn’t with them, but he was probably holed up in some room or other, binging Netflix.

“Hello boys” he drawled.

They didn’t react. If course they couldn’t see or hear him. Of bloody course.

“It can’t be a ghost, Sammy” Dean was saying, sounding exasperated. “This is not a ghost’s MO.”

“But –“

He listened to their discussion and rolled his eyes. It was clearly a wraith.

Out of impulse, he went to the library and grabbed a book about them, which he then threw on the table.

They didn’t even flinch, but a few seconds later Dean saw the book and assumed they had just left it lying there.

Crowley didn’t feel that he’d get a reward for that, and he didn’t.

* * *

He could have left, of course. Despite not being able to make himself seen or heard, he wasn’t a ghost, so he wasn’t tied to the Winchesters, not by any supernatural means at least.

But…

Despite everything, he’d rather stay where he could make sure the boys were doing well, or at least as well as could be expected, given their track record.

He soon learned that Cas was alive and kicking too, which was more than he could have reasonably expected considering Team Free Will’s mortality rate, and he did regularly help out Sam and Dean on cases now.

As he had, of he was being honest, but he was a demon, so he had every right to keep lying to himself.

After a while, Crowley figured he wasn’t going to get out of this unless he made a miracle happen and got his reward. There probably would be a catch to that as well, there usually was, but it had to be better than this existence he certainly wouldn’t have called desirable by any means.

And so, creating a miracle it was.

A miracle for Dean Winchester, as they had forced him to admit to himself. Not that he’d ever examined his… affection for the older Winchester too closely; but it wasn’t difficult to figure out what exactly the moirai had learned about them.

The problem was that they hadn’t exactly told him what constituted a miracle. If one of the boys had died recently, he could probably have resurrected them if he put his mind to it; but as stated before, they were alive and well for the time being.

There was also the small fact that – well, the Winchesters either made miracles happen themselves on a regular basis or had them happen to them; so there was very little wriggle room for him.

Good thing he’d always strived when faced with opposition.

* * *

Dean was not making this easy.  There were times when he appeared rather subdued and downcast, as if he was wishing for something, but Crowley could never figure out what exactly that something was.

But he was determined.

Sadly, nothing seemed to be working. Protecting Dean on cases really became second nature after a while, but clearly wasn’t what the moirai expected of him; neither was making sure the boys’ fridge was always well stocked and throwing lore their way when it was convenient.

Sometimes he thought Cassie suspected something, but he could never be sure with that angel.

And so he did what he had always done and did his best to deal with what he had been given. Until the day he decided he’d had enough.

* * *

Eventually he simply grew tired of it all. He had no idea what to do about making a miracle come true, and certainly not what Dean would want.

Dean was reading in the library when he stormed in. He was done.

“Dear God Squirrel, can’t you give me a  _hint_?” As strange as it sounded, he had

And to his astonishment, Dean raised his head and frowned.

“Squirrel? I asked you what you wanted.”

He slowly stood up. “Who’s there?”

“Who do you think?” Crowley asked, now genuinely intrigued. Neither of the boys had shown signs of seeing or hearing him before, and it could reasonably be assumed that they would be the first to suspect something was amiss.

“Alright” Dean said slowly, stepping further away from the table, “If you – and I am not saying yet that someone or something is in here with me – but if you happen to be on our side, I would appreciate a sign. I don’t want to go down in history as the guy who killed Caspar dead.”

He rolled his eyes, then did the first thing that came to mind.

Dean watched the glass of Craig float (Crowley assumed that was what it looked like to him) towards him without batting an eye.

“Alright” he said after carefully taking a sip, “So you do have good taste in –“ And then, to Crowley’s surprise, his eyes widened as he put the glass back on the table.

“The only one who would choose Craig when he could – Crowley? Is that you?”

He wanted to answer, then; after all, it was the polite thing to do, and hadn’t this been what he’d wanted all along?

But instead of the promised reward, sudden pain made him almost keel over. There was a ringing in his ears, it felt like his blood was on fire, he couldn’t speak, he couldn’t think –

And then two hands caught him. “Take it easy, man.”

He was pushed into a chair as Dean leaned over him, trying to see what was wrong. He quickly took stock himself. The pain had gone, but there was a strange pounding in his ears, and when he thought about it, his ribcage too, as if – as if –

But that couldn’t be possible, surely? They had promised him a reward, not –

“Well, you look awful” Dean said bluntly.

“You’re not exactly a sight for sore eyes, either.” It was a lie, of course; one of the things that had always most annoyed Crowley about the Winchesters was that they were sadly handsome; but he wasn’t about to start complimenting him now –

Dean was busy taking his pulse. “Really, Squirrel?” he asked tiredly. There would have been no point in dragging a living meat suit around all these years –

“It’s steadying. That’s something” he said, sounding rather happy about that fact, while Crowley was still busy processing what was supposed to be steadying in the first place –

When he realized he jumped up.

“Hey” Dean complained, “Sit back down. You only just got resurrected, and I do know from first-hand experience that coming back to life can be –“

He didn’t listen to him. “I’m human” he breathed – breathed.

Dean frowned. “Yes, that’s rather obvious. Did you make some kind of deal? Because id you did, sorry to break it to you, but they have a habit of becoming –“

He quickly told him what happened.

“The moirai? Well, from what I can remember, they usually didn’t involve themselves with mortal affairs all that much.”

“I will remember it as the greatest of honours” he said dryly.

Dean chuckled. “Man, I probably shouldn’t say that, but I missed this.”

Crowley had no idea what to say in reply.

“Come on, let’s have a drink. Only one though your Majesty; can’t put too much on your recently-humanized liver.”

He didn’t fetch Sam or Cas, which was soon explained by the fact that it was in the middle of the night and he had once more been unable to sleep. Maybe he should have tried to help him get some more rest. That would have been a miracle indeed.

That reminded Crowley. “I suppose this is punishment.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Punishment? What do you mean?”

“I told you” he shrugged. “I was going top get a reward for making a miracle happen.” Granted, he hadn’t quite told Dean everything.

“Sorry Peaches, but I think this is supposed to be your reward. It may just be a mortal life, but it’s always been enough for us –“

“But no miracle occurred” he said and Dean stared at him as if he’d suddenly grown two heads. “What?” he demanded.

“You’re here, man” Dean said. “Sounds like enough of a miracle for me.”

Crowley didn’t know where to look.

Thankfully, Dean apparently didn’t expect him to speak, and so they sat quietly in the library for a while, sipping their drinks and contemplating the future.

Maybe, he reflected, for tonight, simply having one could be enough.


End file.
